


Time May Change Me, But I Can’t Trace Time

by Thatonelyric



Category: Leah On the Offbeat - Fandom, Love Simon (2018), Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Fandom
Genre: Divergent sucks and you can fight me, F/F, F/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plane, meet talking about books they dispise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonelyric/pseuds/Thatonelyric
Summary: Takes place a little before Simon Vs. Abby and Leah meet on a plane, and Abby's eyeliner is on point, as always. Leah notices.
Relationships: Leah Burke/Abby Suso, Leah Burke/Nick Eisner
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Time May Change Me, But I Can’t Trace Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha school is sum wack

It’s nice to know that, when you’re on a plane, no one gives a fuck about how you look. Like that couple over there with the baby. One of the moms looks extremely disgruntled, holding their child with a sore arm supported by a sore back. Her wife in the next seat sleeps unpleasantly on the first woman’s shoulder, snoring softly. A piece of her hair floats up and off her nose with each breath she takes, which annoys me entirely. I quickly averted my gaze as the first woman catches me staring. As I shrink back in my seat, embarrassed, my eyes land on a body in front of me, its owner turned to talk to someone across the aisle. The latter sits directly in front of me, chatting to the girl. From what I can see, the girl in front of me has short, dark curly hair, and rich skin that I think would go very well with an olive colored sort of clothing. The girl laughs, then reaches to her side to pull something from a backpack that lays under her seat. My eyes are instantly drawn to the girl’s eye shadow, and then her flawless eyeliner. I swallow, and then blurt out, “I love your eyeliner.”

She glances up, and I quickly brush a strand of hair from behind my ear, as if to make myself look more attractive. Then, realizing I was trying to look attractive, I self consciously fold my hands neatly in front of my stomach, and suck in with all my might.

“Thanks,” she says cheerfully, as if I haven’t just interrupted her conversation. She notices a book on the table attached to her seat, and twists around fully. “Are you reading Divergent?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

I make a face. “My mom is. She was reading it, but she had to step out for a moment.” I gesture to the empty seat next to me.

“Good. That whole series is trash.”

“Agreed,” I reply, hoping there’s a cute grin on my face. The conversation feels heavy at the moment, as though it’s about to disappear entirely, but then the girl says “I’m Abby, by the way.”

“I’m Leah.” Abby reaches out to shake my hand, and I wonder if the way my arm looks moving toward her is ugly. I can never get anything right. The girl I’d first noticed Abby was talking to clears her throat, and Abby shakes, as if she suddenly was aware of her existence.

“Sorry-- this is Molly. She’s my cousin.”

Molly and I exchange greetings, and I do my best not to focus on her body, which looks similar to mine. I decide to focus on Abby instead.

“So…” I say awkwardly in an attempt to continue the conversation, “Divergent has absolutely no literary merit.”

“Agreed,” Abby says immediately, echoing me from earlier. “It wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without The Hunger Games.”

“Exactly!” I raise my voice and clamp my hands over my mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that so loudly,” I chuckle.

Abby and Molly laugh. “I’m glad someone else agrees with us,” the latter says.

In an instant, I feel as though Molly’s butting in our conversation. I instantly correct my thoughts and realize that’s ridiculous, they’re cousins, they’re allowed to be together.

In another instant, I begin to imagine a future with Abby, but I’m pulled out of my abrupt fantasy as my mom taps me on my shoulder. “Sweetie, I’m back,” she announces.

I grimace and hastily pull my legs in to let her back to her seat. I groan internally as my mother struggles with this, which is my fault, really; my legs are too big and my knees jut out too far. Eventually, I sort of have to pull myself out of my seat to swing my legs over, and my mom finally gets in. She sits down, notices Abby and Molly looking at us, and says “Who are your new friends, Leah?”

I open my mouth and shut it again without saying anything, for I have forgotten how to speak. Abby looks into my eyes, then glances at my mom. She sticks her hand over her seat to shake my mom’s. “I’m Abby, and this is Molly,” she says, introducing herself for the second time.

“I’m Jessica,” my mom says, taking Abby’s hand. “Nice to meet you both. How did you kiddos meet?” she asks. I roll my eyes at her referring to us as ‘kiddos’.

“Leah said she liked my eyeliner,” Abby replies, “And I said thanks, and then I noticed Divergent on her seat, and we started talking about it like the monstrosity it is.”

My mom looks shocked, then chuckles. “Well, I personally like it, but I guess I just don’t have good taste.”

I grimace. She’s going to bring up my dad again.

“Leah can tell you all about that, I guess.”

I start, and look over at her. She always mentions my dad when it comes to her and taste. “Yeah..” I say, searching for an example that Abby would like, based on what I know of her already. “She dislikes Bowie.”

Abby’s mouth falls open at my words, and I know I struck gold.

“Oh my god,” Molly says. For a moment there, I’m guilty because I forget she’s there, but then Abby starts talking again.

“Bowie?” She gets out, gesturing to my mom. “She doesn’t like… Bowie? As in David Bowie?”

My mom laughs. “Sorry, he’s just to screamy.” She then turns to me. “Sorry honey, I think I left something when I went to the restroom earlier.”

I nod, and manage to glare at her without Abby noticing as I let the former out again. I know exactly what she’s doing; she wants me to be alone with her (well not exactly alone; Molly’s still here, but maybe she’ll get bored and start reading again or something. I hope that isn’t a rude thing to think). And all the way on the ride home I’ll be hearing nothing but “oh, wasn’t Abby exactly your type, did you see the way she was looking at you?” and I’ll respond, annoying, with my classic “she doesn’t seem like the type to date a fat girl, though.” and then my mom will get an exasperated look on her face, and she won’t respond, because she knows I’m right, and we’ll ride the rest of the way home in silence.

I can’t count the amount of conversations we’ve already had like that. I mean, I’m glad my mom’s accepting of my bisexuality and all that, and I’m glad she’s not kicking me out of the house or anything, but sometimes I wish she would back off. Let me do my own thing.

Which… I realize with disappointment… is exactly what she’s doing. She’s leaving me alone to let me do my own thing.

While my heart pounds nervously, I turn back to face Abby. “Opinion on Harry Potter?” I blurt.

Abby clasps her hands together. “Love. Favorite character?”

I smile shyly. “Probably Remus. He just seems like the artist type, you know?”

Abby raises her eyebrows. “You’re an artist?” She pokes Molly in the shoulder, and Molly giggles.

I snort. “Hardly, but, um… I’m in a band, with my best friend’s sister and some others. And I like to draw.”

“Dude, that is so cool!” Abby waved her hands in the air. “Do you have anything you want to show us right now?” She gestures to herself and Molly.

I bite my lip nervously. “Not really,” I chuckle awkwardly.

“That’s perfectly fine, no pressure,” Abby replies, which I think is very cool of her. Normally, when I mention I draw, and people ask to see my sketches, they don’t stop pleading until I give in and say yes. And then, it turns out, they don’t like them that much anyway, and find a way to either leave or change the topic to continue talking about themselves.

Just then, Molly leans over to Abby and whispers something in her ear that I can’t catch. Abby makes a funny face at whatever her cousin said. Then Molly leaned back, and said.

“Well, I have to use the bathroom. Bye!” She waves to me with a devilish look in her eye and unbuckles her seatbelt.

“But Leah’s mom is there…” Abby tried to protest, but Molly had already wriggled out of her seat and began walking down the aisle.

Confused by these turn of events, I look back at Abby, and we both chuckle awkwardly. Well, I chuckle awkwardly. Abby laughs confidently, it seems.

This was my chance. I had to be slick about it.

“I could send some pictures to you, maybe. Of my art, I mean. If you want.”

Abby gives a cute bounce in her seat. “I’d love that!” As I enter her digits into my phone, and she doesnt the same, I feel a sense of relief. Maybe I’m not as unlikable as I usually think.

I don’t plan to send her any pictures of my art. I plan to text her tomorrow afternoon, and then she’ll say hi, and our conversation will die before she even remembers about my art.

“I can’t believe your mom doesn’t like Bowie,” Abby says as she turns to put her phone back in her bag. My eyes trace her eyeliner.

“Yeah,” I reply. “She doesn’t like The Who either.”

Abby snorts. “Your mom has the worst taste.”

“She really does.”

“Hmmm… Favorite Bowie song?”

“Probably Heroes. It’s basic, I know, but it has a very nostalgic feel to it.”

“I get that. For me, I really like Changes. There’s a specific lyric that just speaks to me in that one.”

“Really, which one?”

“‘Time may change me, but I can’t trace time’,”

“Powerful,” I say.

“Very. I think it means you change a lot over time, but you can’t see where you’re going. Or something like that,” Abby shrugs, “I’m not very good at analyzing things.”

I grin. “Me neither, but I agree with you.”

“Cool.” Abby grins back at me, and I can’t tear my eyes away. She’s just so beautiful, which is cliche, I know, but honestly I’d love to go to a pumpkin patch with her, and sip warm apple cider by a lake. Why do I even think these thoughts? I laugh at myself in my head, and refocus on Abby.

“Do you like to carve pumpkins?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?”

I shrug. “It just popped into my mind, I don’t know.”

Abby suddenly got very excited. “I just had the best idea ever!” You and I could meet up and go pumpkin picking together this October!”

A million images and fantasies flash through my mind. “I’d love that. How long are you going to be here?”

Abby blushes. “I’m moving here. Molly’s going to help me unpack and stuff for a little bit.”

“Moving? Here?”

Abby nods. “I’m going to Creekwood High. Ever heard of it?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I go there.”

“Cool! I’ll have one friend there, at least.”

I scoff. “Oh come on, I can totally introduce you to my friends; Simon, Nora, Morgan, Nick, Bram, Garrett.” I pause.

Abby visibility relaxes. “That’s amazing. Thank you. What grade are you going into?”

“Junior year.”

“Me too!”

I nod, but the conversation feels over now. My mother and Molly haven’t yet returned (who knows if they even will), but Abby turns around and faces the front of her seat. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I’m about to take out a book when Abby turns back to me. Even through many hours on a plane, her eyeliner still looks amazing. But I can’t let myself be attracted to her. I need to stay focused on Nick. If Abby doesn’t accidentally take Nick away, that is. She's so lovely she doesn’t even know she’d be doing it.

“I’m so glad we’re going to be friends,” she says, flashing a brilliant smile towards me.

I inwardly grimace, and give her a fake smile. “Me too,” I answer.

And I mean it really, I do. I just feel like she’s going to change everything about my life. And sure, I don’t know that much about her, but she could change it for the worse. Who knows. So, I decide in that moment as Molly comes back; and my mom a few minutes later; While junior year will be fine, I’m sure senior year will be the greatest. I know it will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments! xoxo  
> For my Jewish readers, shanah tova! May 5781 be as sweet as apples and honey!  
> May RBG's memory be a blessing and a revolution.


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